


Mindbreaker

by ProwlingThunder



Series: Little Stars [33]
Category: Invasion America
Genre: Alien Biochemistry, Alien Boogieman, Alien Culture, Alien Military Structure, Gen, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8126989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/ProwlingThunder
Summary: The first time Aran and Commander Rafe meet, it's the monster beneath the bed and the exterminator above it.





	

All in all, Officer Aran was surprised. Not the gentle surprise of, Humans have ridiculous customs but cake and coffee are not some of them; rather, the mind-shattering surprise of learning, Our Oosha is dead, and being too young to understand the implications of that. It was good the surprise matched the situation, if a little ironic How.  
  
And if Aran were forced to admit his opinion, indefinitely terrifying.  
  
He wasn't, of course. In many ways, Officer Aran answered to neither Commander Briggs nor Commander Konrad, and perhaps if not for the Dragit being the last living member of the Royal Family, possibly would not follow  him either.  
  
But Aran had always been loyal to the Oosha, as his family had always been; fiercely loyal, to the only thing that could ever claim that, claim them. And hurt, to the very depths of their soul, so badly that, when the Oosha had been taken from them by human hands, young and old alike had sworn vengeance by them.  
  
Detached as they may have been from one another, and more so from the Tyrusians who could never understand, the news of the Oosha's demise had been a physical, emotional, and mental blow to them.  
  
And before him was a man with whom the blame lay.  
  
Was it strange then, the anger he felt?  
  
Aran tried to analyze his feelings from the shadows, and found it harder then he decided it should have been. But he hadn't really expected to manage; good as he could read others, Observers were far beyond psycho analyzationof their own, and especially themselves. It just... didn't work, and no one cared to figure out why.  
  
It wasn't as if anyone feared the most loyal, anyway.  
  
The young officer frowned, smoothing out the crease in his uniform as he stepped out of the shadows. The prisoner had finally woke up, and he had a job to do.  
  
"Welcome back to the world of the waking, Commander Rafe."  
  
Aran felt a bit of vindictive pleasure at the way the elder jerked at his voice; really, it was an honor to be able to sneak up on a man with a legend like his...  
  
Still, he was no slouch. Aran preened a little when the Commander looked at him; or rather, the elegant silver insignia on his uniform. Earth uniforms may not be made for practicality, but they had an excellent method for showing of rank, and all the earth-bound forces knew the system.  
  
But the design had not changed, not in a hundred generations, and the Commander had earned his rank in bloody conquest alongside Aran's own sire. Regular Tyrusians may have forgotten them with their dwindling numbers, but he would know.  
  
"You look like him."  
  
Which was a terribly strange thing to say to your interrogator, and it took Aran a moment to understand what he meant. Obviously it was not a slur- the legendary Commander Rafe was not the sort- but it didn't sound like a usual compliment. Aran had always been told he looked and fought like his mother; being linked to anyone else was new.  
  
"It's the expression." Commander Rafe elaborated, as if sensing his confusion, and Aran stomped down firmly on his empathy.  
  
Young or not, he was in control.  
  
It didn't matter, of course, that Commander Rafe had decades of experience, and the Gods forbid that he get loose. No, what mattered most was that he was a traitor to the throne, and that simply couldn't be allowed. He wouldn't be killed, of course; anyone like the Commander Rafe had to be a key player in the Resistance. He would know plans, locations... names.  
  
Perhaps names were more important then the rest. With the number of Mindbreakers so limited, they could not afford to have eyes everywhere. It wasn't right to think they could, so the Dragit didn't. But they could break even the strongest of minds, and that the Dragit did do.  
  
"I will make sure Commander Tate learns of your regards." Not that the man in question would like it. Aran had grown up on stories of Commander Rafe, even before the Academy- especially before the Academy- and if there had been anyone but the Oosha who could have pulled on Commander Tate's loyalty, it would have been Commander Rafe. To learn he was a traitor, working with the Ooshati who defended those who'd stolen Cale-Oosha? Who it was well-known he had been the teacher of, and had been trusted by Commander Tate to go with him when the middle-aged man had stayed behind to raise him?  
  
Mindbreakers trusted no-one, and for very good reason.  
  
But Commander Tate had, and Aran knew from stories what it would do to him, what could happen when one gave loyalty to someone besides the Oosha.  
  
"He never mentioned you."  
  
That didn't surprise Aran. With only a dozen families left in their dwindling class, children were smuggled away with vicious paranoia. They were weak- an evolutionary trade-off for the accuracy and depth of the skills they'd honed for their Oosha. Even one on one, Aran would probably lose a match of physical prowess to a new recruit. So young ones were kept safely tucked away until they were old enough to take care and stay out of trouble.  
  
Basic training had been very hard for him.  
  
"Even the Dragit was unaware until I was of use." Honestly, Aran hadn't even been known to the household servants until he was fifteen.  
  
Curious, Aran noted; carefully hidden, but there nevertheless. And what right did he have to be curious, the Officer wondered fleetingly, even as he sat down in the simple metal chair on his side of the table.  
  
He had doubts that the bands could hold the prisoner, and he wasn't entirely sure they were his own.  
  
"I am Officer Aran; and you are very aware of my position in relation to your own."  
  
Amusement. Just a bubble. But no thoughts or images, which made sense. Anyone in Commander Rafe's former occupation would have to have a strong mental shield.  
  
Against any other Tyrusian, it would have been enough. Most didn't have the skill or patience to plow through them proper, wheedle at the cracks until they became a thin crevice just big enough for them to slip through, and poke and press with a firm, unyielding grip until, like rainwater, the mind lay open to bare a cave of wonders.  
  
But Aran was an Mindbreaker, a Prodigy even, and Observers were a farcry from normal. Even the human psychologist who had examined him had labeled him with dozens of would-be problems that were neither problems nor hampered his abilities.  
  
Still, it was terribly unfortunate that the pretty young lady had a horrible, frightening mental breakdown and tried to fly out the window before she filed the paperwork. He might have liked her otherwise; she had been accurate on others.  
  
Very accurate, he thought, recalling her initial observations on Talon.  
  
"You have put me in a tight spot." Interest. Aran laced his fingers together, letting his elbows rest on the cool metal surface. The room was chilled, and though his muscles protested, it kept his mind sharp and clear. And that was his ace, if Commander Rafe did get loose. He liked to have his ends tied up nicely.  
  
Like his father, and the Dragit, and more importantly, the traitorous Ooshati.  
  
"You see, Commander Rafe, you are not dead."  
  
Confusion, anticipation. Aran allowed himself a victorious smile: the still-proud man expected him to try to complete the job. No, if Commander Briggs couldn't manage to kill Commander Rafe, Aran would not imagine he could do so.  
  
Besides, the new General Gorden had other plans for the Commander.  
  
"You have a son." Two, according to papers, but the younger had turned traitor. His name had been stricken from the family tree. "Unfortunately, Commander Talon is my Squad Leader, and as a result, a certain degree of protection and honesty is allotted to him."  
  
"You intend to tell him I'm here."  
  
Well, perhaps. If he hadn't already known.  
  
"No. Rest assured, he is very aware of where you now reside." Worried anxiety. Good. "However, at this moment, Commander Talon believes I am in the Medical Barracks recovering from injuries."  
  
More confusion, then dawning understanding. "He does not know what you are."


End file.
